Using 8
by 15 Lucca Hunter
Summary: Ever wondered why 8 seems to hate 6 and everyone else? And how he got so hooked on that magnet? I put these two questions together and came up with this little story. Different POV each chapter.
1. CrashLanding Dictionaries

Rude Noises, Flying Scissors and Crash-Landing Dictionaries

(1)

* * *

)

"6."

I receive no answer.

"6?"

Still nothing.

"6, you inky little fool! Get here now!"

A striped head pops and makes a rude noise at me before retreating. I sigh. Well, if 6 won't answer me I'll just have to get somepunk else. I shout for 2,, and am rewarded – sort of – with a tired "oh, what do you want _now_?"

"Get me a knife, 2."

"Yes, your majesty," I hear him mutter as he turns away. A minute later, a scissor blade swishes through the air and lands – **thunk**- in the floorboards about a foot away from me.

"Aaargh! You hit me!" I lie, just to see his reaction.

"1, if that had hit you, you'd know about it."

* * *

The cathedral is peaceful today. No catbeasts or anything similar disturb me, nor any annoying inky fools, nor blue clicking beings...

BANG!

I jump as a huge book crashes to the floor, inches from my foot. My optics catch the sight of two hooded heads disappearing over the side of the bucket lift.

Those damned twins! They've played this trick on me many times, but it never fails to make me mad.

"What did you do that for?" I screech. "You almost killed me! With the _Oxford English Dictionary_, no less!"

Mischievous clickings echo from within the sides of the lift.

"Get down from there, right now!" I shout. Of course, they ignore me completely.

At this point, I simply feel like crying. I'm supposed to be the protector, and they don't even do anything I say! If only I had some way of enforcing my authority...

* * *

**Pretty short chapter, I know, but the next few are longer, I promise! Although those of you who hated my tiny chapters in No Fun Allowed should skip chapter 3 when it comes on because it's even shorter than this one... :) LOL**

**So guys, please review. I didn't get many reviews for my latest story so I don't know if it's what you guys like. But keep 'em coming and remember I DON'T MIND FLAMES!**

**Lucca**


	2. Dreams, Pain and 8

Sleep, oh, dangerous sleep and I am drowning in the darkness with no way out. No, no, please...

The pain grips me, pulls me, stabs me. I feel my pen nib fingers digging into my arms; I want to rip my arms to pieces so the pain can fly away like butterflies. I try and try but I just make my arms hurt as well as my head.

Suddenly from within the red spines of pain and black dangerous sleep comes a friendly but worried face.

"Oh, my poor dreamer! You aren't in too much pain are you?"

I want to be brave but my head just keeps nodding yes and my voice is screaming louder and louder.

"Oh, 6!" The wrinkled old face twists in sympathy. "I'm so sorry; I had to tell you something. The eighth is joining you soon... I shall release him into the Emptiness. Oh, 6!" He says again. Now I am twisted in an impossible position, trying to wriggle away from the pain but it keeps following me, stabbing me, ouch ow... The Scientist shows me a picture but my vision is beginning to cloud over with pain. I see a big stitchpunk with clumsy features and strong-looking muscles. Then I catapult up up up up up out of pain and into darkness...

I find myself shrieking and convulsing on the floor. 1 is there looking mildly concerned but distant; and 2 is gripping my hand. My thoughts begin to change from jumbled, rapid dreams-thoughts into neat and tidy world-thoughts. As my breathing slows and my body relaxes, everybody else does the same.

"You okay now, 6?" Asks 7. 5 smiles comfortingly but nervously.

I try to reply in the neat words of the others but as usual I end up talking like a small child.

"Don't like dreaming. It hurts." I whimper. 7 touches my head.

"You were brave," she says and smiles.

Nopunk asks what I dreamed about which is good because I have no intention of telling them. 8 is my secret. For now.  
Yesterday, 2:02pm


	3. Unconsciousness, Soup and The Emptiness

"You've been unconscious for eight days." My wife puts a steaming bowl of soup in front of me. "Eat up." Her tone of voice is worried and shaky.

"I-I had a project, honey. Sorry." Her eyes meet mine knowingly.

"Eight days, though!" She says, her voice low. "It isn't usually that long, is it?"

"No..." I admit, "But this one was rather...large... guess it needed a little more soul, right?" She smiles but doesn't seem entirely convinced.

When I am back at full strength I go to put 8 in the emptiness. He hasn't woken up yet so I place him inside a bomb crater, safe from prowling machines.

"Guard them well, my soldier," I say quietly. Then I leave him lying on his side, crumbs of earth on his relatively large feet.


	4. 6, 8 and a Catbeast

I yawn and stretch. What a good snooze… OH MY GOSH WHERE AM I?

I look around and all I can see is emptiness. Or Emptiness. It feels like a name. Standing up, I realize I don't know where I am.

The atmosphere in this place gives me the creeps. It feels like death and war. Fingers of fear are clawing at me but I don't let them scratch me. I mustn't be afraid.

I have a purpose which I must fulfil.

"_Guard them well, my soldier_…"

So I walk the way my head was pointing when I woke up.

* * *

After walking for a few hours, I feel a sudden change in the atmosphere. For the first time since I awoke, I don't feel so lonely. It's as if I'm being watched. My instincts tell me I should be worried about this, but strangely I feel as if something is leading me on.

Without asking my permission, my feet change direction and the rest of me is compelled to follow suit.

"Eight?"

I almost jump out of my fabric. A short figure has materialized before my optics, a pinstriped little thing with oddly-sized optics and long, curious fingers.

"Me. I'm 8. Yes. I think…"

The thing smiles broadly.

"I'm 6. I draw," and to prove it he steps forward and draws a large smiley face on my belly. I step back in horror, expecting my fabric to dissolve painfully in the acid. But it doesn't.

"It's ink," says 6 helpfully. "Can I be your friend? Because 1 hates me and everypunk else is busy…"

"Wait- there are more of us?"

6 nods vigorously. "Th-there's 1, he's a meanie-poo; and 2, he makes stuff; a-and the twins, they're clicky; and 5, who's… just 5. And me. And 7, she's a girl."

I blink.

"So that's… 1, 2, 4, 5, 7…" I trail off. It seems I'm not so good with numbers.

"You're the Eighth! That's why you've got an 8 on you," he adds proudly, as if he has solved a great mystery.

"8… That's the one after 7, right?"

He nods again.

"So you'll be my friend then? Yay!"

That's when he collapses, twitching.

"Uh, 6?" I ask nervously. Perhaps this is what you do when you have a friend? Or maybe he's hurt?

My mind is made up for me when he starts screaming.

"6!" I drop down beside him, optics wide in concern. As soon as I touch his hand the spasms stop and he relaxes, still whimpering.

"W-what just happened?" I ask.

"Bad dream… C-Catbeast is coming! RUN!"

I assume this is a bad thing so I start running. However, a few steps on I realise 6 isn't following.

"6? 6!" I shout. He groans and tries to stand, but his attack has weakened him. I can see a huge monster nearby, too close to 6 for comfort…

I sprint over to him. An ingrained instinct gives me an idea.

"Piggyback!" I yell, and hoist him onto my back; not having a clue what the word I just said means or why exactly I said it.

Then I run for our lives.


	5. Piggies And A Secret

8 and I collapse into the little room, breathing heavily. My mechanical heart is pounding.

"FRIEND!" I exclaim once I have my breath back, and hug 8 tightly. He smiles weakly.

We sit in silence for a while, recovering. All I hear is the sound of our combined, irregular breathing and the pounding of my heart mechanisms.

"Question?"

"Hmm?" responds 8 and turns his head to face me.

"What… what does piggyback mean?"

8 frowns.

"I have… no idea," he says eventually. "Maybe a piggy is some kind of machine?" We both laugh, then settle back into silence.

"So, when do I get to meet everypunk else?" he asks.

I freeze. I haven't anticipated 8 actually wanting to meet them.

"They're… busy. It might be best if you stay here, okay?"

I don't want to share my new best friend with anypunk else. He's my secret! But I can't let him think I'm selfish… I realise we have slipped into awkward silence again.

"Oh! Umm… it's really late. I should get back." I lie. 1 never notices how long I'm out.

"So I have to stay here? Alone?" 8 looks a little hurt.

"I'll be back tomorrow."

"Promise?"

"I swear on the Source I will see you tomorrow."

8 seems content with that and pulls me into a bear-hug.

* * *

"Hey, 6. You been out drawing?" asks 5 as I enter the room.

"Y-yeah," I lie.

I think he catches the look I always have in my eyes for a few hours after dreaming.

"Oh, 6… you dreamed again, didn't you? Was it really bad this time?" He looks sympathetic.

"N-no, wasn't so bad." I almost say '8 helped me,' but I catch myself just in time.

"I, um, drew a picture to help with the pain."

"Oh, 6, that's excellent! And it worked?"

I nod, biting my striped lip.


	6. EEEEP, More Piggies and a Picture

6 keeps his promise, of course. Early the following morning, I am awoken by 6 adding a moustache to the smiley face on my belly.

"6!" I protest, but I'm smiling anyway.

"You're awake!" He makes a noise of delight- something like 'EEEP!'- and attempts to pull me upright by the hand. I guess I'm a bit too heavy for that. His hand slips and he falls with a bump on his striped behind, laughing.

"So, piggyback?" I suggest, standing up. 6 makes the happy noise again and leaps onto my back.

I gallop around the Emptiness, 6's hands gripping my shoulders. All of a sudden my foot catches in a small pothole and we tumble into a heap, laughing maniacally. When we get our breath back I hoist 6 back up and off we go again.

The piggyback game continues for hours until we're laughing so hard I can't pull 6 up anymore. So we crawl back to my hiding place.

While I lie back, smiling at life, 6 is drawing something on a scrap of paper. There's a large 'punk – clearly me – and a short, stripy one on my back. 6.

When 6 has added the last pinstripe to his drawing, he pauses for a second before writing a large '6' and even bigger '8' above our heads. He then leans over and writes something else.

**6 and 8 Best Friends Forever**

His writing is cute, wonky and childish. It suits him perfectly. Cute, wonky, childish 6.

Then he looks at me solemnly.

"You are my best friend, aren't you?" he asks quietly.

"Forever." And I hug him tightly.

_Damn, another stupidly short chapter! (-_-)_

_Please tell me honestly if you think it's too soppy. I tried to make it cute._

_~Lucca_


	7. Spears, Stupidity and Even More Piggies!

_**1's POV**_

My joints creak and squeak as I get up. The cathedral is the same as ever this morning. Cold and grey. My footsteps echo around the stone room, mingling eventually with a curious noise from the next room. Frowning, I pace in that direction.

_Whoosh!_

A long, sharp, pointed object flies straight at me as I open the door. I gasp and duck, and the spear sails through the doorway into my room. Standing before me is 7, frozen in a spear-throwing stance. Suddenly she defrosts.

"1. Trust _you_ to get in the way."

"GET IN THE WAY?! You _threw_ it at me!"

"I was aiming for the door, actually."

She points to the door, where a target has been pencilled and a caricature of myself stuck in the centre.

"_That's the last straw_! I'm going-"

"AT LAST!" 7 hollers, and performs a victory dance. "Guys! Guys! 1 is-"

"I'm going …_for a walk_." I say in the iciest tone I can muster. 7 does not bother to hide her disappointment.

* * *

I hate the Emptiness. It's stupid. It's cold. It's grey. It's stupid. It's stupider. Everything is stupid. Stupid 7. Stupid 6. Stupid 5. Bloody stupid twins. Stupid 2. I kick stones around and sulk. Just as I am at the climax of my sulkiness, I hear a voice. My feet stop. I strain to listen. The voice is recognisable as 6's stuttering childish tone.

Ha! The inky little fool really is mad! He even talks to himself! Ha, ha!

I'm so busy silently mocking 6, I don't notice the hut.

And then I stop suddenly, for 6 is with somepunk!

I hide behind a rock and watch as the other stitchpunk picks 6 up on his back as if he weighed nothing. With shouts of laughter the duo cavort about, 6 sliding around on the bigger 'punk's back as he trips into craters. They come closer, and I catch a glimpse of a number '8' on the newcomer's arm.

8 is strong. Muscular. Athletic. Huge.

And just what I need.

* * *

**_OOH, SINISTER! You like it, huh? Leave a review, _s'il vous plait_, 'cause I love to hear what you guys think about my stories! :D ~Lucca_**


End file.
